


Deficit

by Tsuukai



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Insignificant Minor Characters, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:09:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsuukai/pseuds/Tsuukai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daiki slowly loses control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deficit

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, my vague, unassuming style of writing. Angst, but not bad angst? [I’m sorry, even after I said I won’t stumble down this path for a while.]

Daiki idly drank from his drink, watching the game with a bored eye, trying to ignore the large palm resting on a small non-photo blue head bathed in light from the window. He keeps his own hands to himself, the free hand dropping between his legs that have their knees drawn up with the help of the coffee table. He was told not to put his feet up, but he ignored the request, staring fixedly at the television screen. Even if it had porn on, he does not think he would have blinked much to watch it.

“Aomine, get your feet off,” the other told him for the second time in the span of five minutes, Daiki keeping track. After a gusty sigh, a large warm hand swipes his knees to push his feet down. He scowls as prevised, darting eyes to the red embers burning brightly at him, mouth held in a ghost of a disapproving line. The hand remained and Daiki was allowed to breathe easier.

“Aomine-kun’s like a child. Don’t bother with him so much, Kagami-kun; we can tie his legs to his body,” Daiki tilted his head past the hunkering redhead to glare at his friend.

“You’re noisy,” he drawled angrily, then immediately looked back at Kagami. He started to retreat with his hand following, so Daiki immediately started to raise his legs again. Frowning, Kagami instantly held them down again. “Are you going to keep doing that?” He asked, glancing at the hand resting just above his knee.

“Sure, if that’s all it takes for you to listen,” and Daiki smirks, challenging the other male. Kagami glares back at him before he shifts to sit beside Daiki, hand remaining on his thigh the whole time.

Daiki feels a different tightening of his chest.

 

* * *

 

They plan to meet up at the court Kagami frequents because it is just easier that way; he gets to bring snacks from home and they will pay for it by travelling to him. He fusses that he really gets nothing out of it besides a game, but Daiki quickly shuts him up with a “I’ll just stay home then.” The idea that Kagami thinks he owes Daiki is lingering between them, but there is also the concept of Daiki owing Kagami (and Tetsu) so much more. He will never speak of it, of course; he has thanked Tetsu once, and Kagami does not really deserve that much soul-revealing.

There is an itch though, that Daiki cannot place, making him want to grab Kagami’s shirt and pull him close, stare down at him. What words he wants to say, though, they are lost in his mind, convoluted and cocooned; he probably does not know where to start, so he shrugs it off. Another part of him that stays steady and calm says differently, but because it does not reveal much to him, he ignores that part.

A deep seething is lying hidden under that calm and Daiki knows it is only a matter of time before it empties out in retaliation. It is taking its time, slowly rising, giving him the false sensation of still being patient.

Even his thoughts are giving up on him understanding.

He arrives earlier than the rest, eyes meeting red.

 

* * *

 

The beachside is less crowded than they had planned for, so Daiki was given a choice to be on either two teams: help set up their spot or help set up their arsenal of play things. One look at the bright shiny faces and plastics just waiting to be filled with his precious breath, Diaki announces that he had the best chances of securing them a pleasant spot. The looks he received were conflicting with agreeing, but he does not wait; half-way through, they realise he has left without taking his allocated items.

A harsh tug brings him colliding against a strong chest, he dangling his head back to immediately meet a shoulder to support his neck. Glowering red eyes that promise to not listen to any of his nonsense freeze him in the weird position.

“You’re not getting away that easily,” the redhead says, warm breath hitting his nape at such an odd place that Daiki’s skin tingles. “C’mon, dumbass.”

He protests—as was warranted—but he follows. The heat on his back is already dissipating even if the sun is unrelenting as it shines almost loudly in the expanse that is the beach. Satsuki scowls prettily at him, whining, and Tetsu jabs him in the side. Kise is being Kise, so he ignores him on principle and resumes the task, quick, to head back on soft, burning hot sand, slipping into his footwear. Kagami is already making his way to a space he can see up front. When he notices him, he stomps faster, probably thinking Daiki was competing with him.

He lets him think so, joining him in the last leg, and simultaneously they drop their burden on the sand. For a second Kagami has forgotten the impromptu race, spreading his arms to his side and taking a huge breath in.

“Ah,” he makes a noise, visually as jovial as he sounds.

Daiki cannot breathe again; a moment or two passes until Kise bumps into him as he passes with loaded arms, and Daiki snaps his head toward him. When he glances back, Kagami is already bending to help Tetsu and Satsuki.

Daiki cannot help but feel the moment is lost. The seething he has started to associate with his aimless thoughts rise up, moving and thick.

He tries to ignore it as he strips off his sleeveless hoodie, heading into the large salt body to cleanse that unpleasant sensation.

 

* * *

 

He lurches awake, one hand clenching the sheets under him and another splayed flat on his chest, heaving. He curls his fingers slowly into the loose tank he wears, mind ravelling over what he had dreamt about that forced him awake, chilled to the bone. As he tries to recall, it drifts further away. Frustrated, he throws his covers impatiently to the side, not caring if it drops to the floor where other items have previously met their demise.

Daiki glances at the clock on the table, dismisses the early hour with a click of his tongue, spacing for a second before he decides to take a run. Lately all he had been doing is waking up at all times of the night, not even able to slip into a nap on the roof anymore, and it has become a (productive) habit to do roadwork.

He stealthily exits his house, dressed comfortably making sure he had his wallet, phone and keys, then makes a break for it past his gates. Alternating between long jogs and quick dashes, he takes a round of the neighbourhood, passes by their only police box, lit brightly with its occupant diligently writing into things Daiki cannot see, and before he knows it, he is panting in front of his gates again. He remains there, bent over, breathing in sharply, filling his tight lungs with much needed oxygen.

But it is taking its time calming him down, to the point where he is wheezing and crying in the fear that he _is not stopping_. Clenching a fist above a ridiculously fast beating heart, Daiki worries wordlessly, head a mess.

“Oh my god, please,” he is repeating, a mantra tinged with so many emotions, ones Daiki has been ignoring for so long now, that he has lost control over them. he cannot hide them anymore, put a lid on them and expect them to never show their self in the light of day. He prefers them in the dark where they belong, reaching long spindly arms to hook onto his body, tugging gently first, then trying to drag him under. Daiki tries hard now, fighting it; he struggles with all that he can muster, pushing, kicking, screaming, _crying_ , but those arms do not budge.

A thin stream of light different from the stark white of the lamppost just outside his house draws a line across his feet he has been bent over for how long he does not know. The line, as he watches, grows thick slowly, warmer, and as if mesmerised, Daiki raises his head, short shallow huffs of air easing as he sees the splash of reds, yellow, a soft mixture of azure and dull white across the sky. In that moment, everything stops.

The deafening beating of his heart and useless shallow breathing grounds to a halt, and as Daiki stares at the sky, it slowly resumes, one beat at a time, one breath at a time. He does not know how long he remains there, lost in the splash of colours turning paler and brighter, the warm reds and yellows enveloped by the azure and white.

And Daiki breathes in again.

 

* * *

 

This time he does not wait; when the others have started to walk towards the station, Daiki reaches over the gap between them and grabs hold of Kagami’s shirt, crumpling the material in his fist easily. Kagami jerks forward with inertia, before he throws a cocked eyebrow at him, a glare easily filtering through. Daiki has stopped caring about those because he has started to aim for them, an expression he gets more easily than the rare close-eyed smile.

“What is it?” Kagami asks, turning around to face him. He holds himself stiff, hands in between clenching and waiting. Daiki eyes them carefully too, just in case, then looks into red, questioning eyes.

He takes a moment to breathe, the air stale, the rush of fast moving people, jostling around the two of them. The bubble he wants to create around them takes time to form, and before it completely closes, Kagami moves closer, tilting his head to one side, the corners of his mouth dipping further down. Daiki still looks on, hedging he knows, though when he opens his mouth, Kagami moves again, angling backwards so as to move, lips moving so as to speak, but Daiki rushes in because he has lost so many moments before this and now, now it is becoming obfuscated to let it go without reacting.

Daiki has already lost enough. He does not want to lose more.

 

    

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Loss.


End file.
